Samantha M
by invisiblefriends
Summary: A different take on the return of Samantha theme. Set sometime after Season 7 - no real date given. Its a 'What if'. This idea came to me from a great story by MSDR89, 'The Return of Samantha Mulder' . I loved the idea of Samantha returning as a little girl, not the adult
1. Chapter 1

_"She was there when I came out of the washroom, sitting with Fox. I think she had some of my drink because there wasn't much left. I didn't know they could have women policemen. Fox says women can do any job they want even being firemen. He makes it sound like a good thing but I'm pretty sure I never wanted to be a fireman. Maybe a dancer or a teacher."_

Scully hates clandestine meetings at diners in the middle of the night. She always has. There is never good news. Only bad. Or mysterious. Or mysteriously bad. Scully is tired, she is still getting over her bout with the flu and she hopes Mulder is all right but, damn; it's the middle of the night and does he have to drag her from a deep sleep so early. Or late. She can't even tell which adjective that _'three-thirty in the morning'_ qualifies as. The only fact that registers is that it's Monday morning and that is enough of a struggle.

Scully gets out of her car and allows her common sense to return before she climbs the stairs to Bobs Eats, a Mulder favourite, which irritates her even more.

She can see him through the window. He is hunched over one of the cracked linoleum tables, stirring a cup of coffee. She knows that posture - he is wiped. She hasn't seen him since the Monday before. She still doesn't know half of what he gets up to on their days off. He is wearing a suit, however, and this is even worse than wondering. It means he has been spending his time in the office or following potential new tips.

"Hey," she says, putting a hand on his shoulder before dropping into the chair across from him.

When he looks up at her, she knows it is bad.

"Thanks for coming so fast," he says.

"No problem. What's up?"

As if the answer suddenly appears, she notices a second cup on the table. Half of an Orange Crush remains in melting ice. There is someone else in this story.

"Mulder?" Maybe he has had one too many orange crushes and needs her to drive him home before the sugar rush kicks in.

He nods towards the cup. "You aren't going to believe it."

"No, not if you don't tell me I won't."

He absently nudges the cup of Crush with his thumb.

"Is that your drink?" she asks.

"No. Hers."

"Her? Her who?"

Finally, Mulder takes his tired eyes from the table and looks at Scully. "My sister."

"Your…." And dread takes over. Not this again. Not the Conspiracy's attempt to reunite him with the one thing desperately missing from his world.

"She was waiting for me outside my apartment when I got home. I couldn't believe it - I still can't."

"Where is she now?"

"In the bathroom." He nods towards the cup. "She had a few of these."

Scully thinks he means the thirty-something version who has been here before. Who was never real. And who turned his life upside down. She won't believe him until she sees for herself. And then she will deal with Mulder and his delusion. This scares her more than anything.

"There," Mulder says.

She looks over. The door to the women's washroom has opened but the only person leaving is a young girl. She has long, dark braided hair and is wearing a pair of jeans and a tee shirt with large petal flowers all over. Scully is looking at Samantha Mulder, Age 8.

"Mulder, I don't understand."

"Join the club." He stands up and waves the little girl over. "Samantha. It's okay."

Slowly the girl walks towards him but her worried eyes are on the new person at their table.

"Samantha, this is my partner. Dana Scully. She works with me at the FBI."

Cautiously, the girl glances very quickly at Scully. She shifts her chair a few inches closer to her brother.

"Hi Samantha," Scully says, not quite believing these words are stumbling out of her mouth. "It's good to meet you."

Samantha can barely look at this woman who is her mother's age; older, probably. "I'm still hungry," she says to Mulder.

He leans back and pulls a ten dollar bill out of his pocket. "Get whatever you want. No, it's okay, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here."

Scully waits until the little girl is out of earshot then leans across the table. "Mulder, will you please tell me what is going on here."

"I don't know. I … it's Samantha. She somehow found her way to my door. She thought she was going to find our dad - she had 'William Mulder' and my address written down on a scrap of paper."

"But she hasn't aged a day."

"I don't understand either. But maybe you can run some tests under the radar. Blood, DNA, anything else you can think of."

"Did she know who you were?"

He shakes his head. "She said I looked like her father. I brought her inside and tried to explain that I'm her brother. I'm not certain if she believes it. I'm not certain I do."

"But where has she been?"

"She doesn't remember. She just remembers holding my name and address." He drags both hands through his hair and tries to make sense of his own words. "It's her, Scully. I don't know how or why but.. it's her."

They watch the eight-year-old talk to the waitress. She is pointing to the various chocolate bars behind the glass counter.

Scully nudges his arm to get his attention. "Hey - are you okay?"

"No. Yes."

"We'll take this slowly. I'll arrange some tests off the record. You have some vacation time, right?"

Both of them have _Duh_ splashed across their faces. He has nothing but vacation time. He is being nagged by Personnel to take them by the end of the fiscal year or he will lose them. What Personnel doesn't realize is they are dealing with a workaholic who doesn't care about vacation time; so their idle threats are not going to lessen the paperwork they will have to do to expunge the days from his record.

Scully looks at the time. She needs to be up in mere hours to meet with Skinner. Mulder is supposed to be there too but she will have to cover for him. "Let's go."

He isn't listening. His mind and eyes are following the girl as she wanders back and forth in front of the chocolate bar case. He wonders if Malteezers or Snickers are still on the market. They were her favourites. Hershey Bars should still be around. God only knows what else is out there these days. Mulder is not a chocolate fiend. Not the way his sister was. Or how Scully occasionally is. He has seen Scully in well-planned, calculated moments, buy, unwrap and devour an entire chocolate bar in one go.

Her voice slips into his thoughts.

"What?" he asks absently.

"Were you at the office again?"

"Since this morning." Sunday morning.

"Do you mind if I ask how much sleep you've had lately?"

Now his attention returns to her. "Yes. Don't."

"I don't know why but you have been going at this pace for the last few weeks and you can't keep it up. You need to look after yourself, especially with this latest development. Mulder? Are you listening?"

He is not. He has now noticed Scully's clothing. "Where did I take you from?"

"Home, Mulder. Bed. Where most people are at this hour."

"Oh," he replies vaguely as Samantha returns to the table with a plate of fries and a Kit Kat. "You have enough there?" he asks.

"You told me to get what I wanted-"

"I know, I know. Let's go home."

They get the food bagged. Mulder takes Samantha by the hand. From behind, Scully thinks how much they look like two long lost survivors from a very lonely ship wreck.

Ten minutes later, Mulder follows Scully and Samantha into his apartment. The living room is fairly tidy; the kitchen sink is almost empty, give or take. For some reason, the bed is made. He tries to jog his memory as to when the hell he actually did this. It couldn't have been this morning because he slept at the office last night. Then he remembers - two mornings ago. That was when he last made the bed.

"Here we are," he says swiping a pair of sweatpants from the couch and lobbing it into the bedroom. "I'll show you around." With a very tentative hand inches away from her shoulder, Mulder gives Samantha the tour. It is short and full of various bits of useful and not-so-useful information.

Scully waits on the couch and listens to his kind voice and wonders what in the hell he is going to do and where this story is going to go. She isn't sure how many more kicks to the head he can handle with the issue of his sister. Maybe there won't be a kick this time. Maybe, as implausible as this entire situation is, maybe this is for real and forever. Maybe she doesn't grow. Maybe she does. Maybe, maybe, maybe…..

And maybe not.

They return from the tour; her hand is lightly in his. He looks like a stunned, sudden father.

"Scully, I'm going to put Samantha to bed."

She can hear his voice talking calmly from the next room. The light goes off. He appears and closes the door halfway.

Mulder drops a pillow and blanket on the coffee table and sinks into the couch next to her. "I can't believe this is happening."

"It is, though."

"How is it that she is exactly how I remember her?"

She should be Scully's age. Scully's height, have her own career. Hell, for that matter, Scully could be the grown up version of his sister. Maybe she is his sister. Maybe Scully is the real one and the retro-carbon-copy in the next room was delivered over twenty years too late.

"Mulder?" her curious voice interrupts. She has caught him smiling to himself.

"I was thinking ... When we first met - you and me - I. You and I…" When Mulder corrects his own grammar, he is tired. "And as I began to trust you - as I've never trusted anyone else in my life - I used wondered if you were a cosmic do-over for Samantha. If you were sent to me to make up for her loss. You think that's possible?"

"Well, Mulder, as flattering as that is to hear, it's awfully … predetermined. My life brought me here based on my family's choices and my own choices, which had nothing to do with your or your family. Couldn't the fact be that we did end up at the FBI and we developed our mutual trust because of the work each of us has put into the partnership and our jobs. I think we end up cheating ourselves if we lay any successes at the feet of fate, instead of those decisions we made individually and as partners."

"Party pooper," he says knowing she is right. So he will keep his magical thinking to himself. "You and she were - are - so alike.. You'd be about the same age, give or take a year or so." Would Samantha have grown up to be as analytical as Scully? Or as open to theories of all descriptions as Mulder?

Scully needs to put an end to the fantasy scenarios in Mulder's delicate world. "You need to sleep and I need to go home. We can hash out your Who-Begat-Whom theories tomorrow," Scully tells him. "Do you have enough food in your refrigerator?"

"I think so. I'll do a shopping run tomorrow."

"I'll pull a few strings at Quantico and get some tests going for her. I'll need some DNA from you, too."

"Regression Therapy," he suddenly adds. "That will give us some indication of where she has been, whether it's in reality or her reality. I can take her to Boston to see….."

Scully's hand lands on his arm. "Not so fast, Mulder. The basics first. What do you want to tell Skinner about the meeting tomorrow morning - today?"

"I'll leave a message and say I'm sick but that you'll be there. After that …. I don't know."

"We could always tell him the truth."

He crunches the factors in his head. Too many corners for something to go wrong. "Let's not involve him until we have to."

"Okay," she says. "We will talk tomorrow and take it from there."

"Thanks. I know this is whole thing is a bit … odd."

"I'm getting used to 'odd', Mulder."

Mulder surprises her with a personal question; these have been unusually rare lately. "You still sick?"

"No. Back to normal."

She called him last Monday morning to let him know he was on his own for a few days. Flu, she told him.

"Thanks for the heads up," he had said before launching into a description of a case Skinner wanted them to look into. And he kept talking and talking. He finally ended the call with a reckless suggestion. "Don't come in until you are no longer infectious."

She glared at the phone before hanging up and crawling back into bed.

"Are you okay to drive?" he asks now. "I can always scoot over"

She isn't sure if he is serious or just over-tired. Maybe it is too late for either of them to be expecting coherent sentences. When children return from the hinterlands of your life, maybe the first thing to go is rational thinking.

* * *

end of Ch1


	2. Chapter 2

Samantha M. Chapter 2

Scully isn't usually more than one foot away from her cell phone at any time of day. During the meeting with Skinner and a visiting AD from New York, she doesn't realize she has left it in the office until Skinner's secretary delicately bursts into the meeting to tell Scully that she has an emergency telephone call.

 _My mother_ , is the first frightening thought that flashes through Scully's mind.

 _My cell phone_ is seconds behind when her hands fly to her pockets, which are both flat and empty.

Skinner is irritated by the interruption but there isn't much he can do about it. Family emergencies have always taken precedence over meetings and they always will.

Until his secretary carelessly adds, "It's Agent Mulder."

Scully is obviously thrown by the announcement _and_ by the fact that she has been cell phone-less for over an hour and didn't even realize it.

"I'm sorry, Sir…" She gets up from the table. "I'll be right back…."

She darts out of the room before she has to look at the pissed-off face of someone she has already lied to once that morning.

In the outer office, Scully picks up the phone and turns away from a curious Kimberly. "Mulder? What's wrong?"

"She's gone."

"What?"

His voice is unsteady. "She's gone. I woke up and she's not here."

Quickly, Scully glances over her shoulder. Kimberly is at her desk, not even pretending to pretend that she isn't listening. She is. Very closely. "Mulder, I will call you back in five minutes. Stay where you are."

The longest five minutes of her life follow.

An apology to Skinner - her second lie of the day involving Agent Mulder's poor health - seems to take a half hour at least. Getting from Skinner's office down to her own seems to take another forty five minutes.

But in fact, she makes it in under four minutes.

She drops into Mulder's chair, picks up the phone and dials.

He picks up before the first ring has ended. "Yeah."

"Sorry, I was in Skinner's office and his - never mind. What do you mean she's gone?"

"Gone. Not in my apartment. Not _anywhere._ "

There is silence on the line as Scully tries to sort through these facts and come up with a reasonable answer. She knows there won't be one.

Mulder's quiet voice now turns into pure fear. "She _was_ …..here … wasn't she?"

"Yes, she was. I saw her too, Mulder. You didn't imagine it…" She grabs her phone from the corner of her desk where it has been charging, and jams it into her pocket. "I am coming right over to pick you up. Don't start looking for her until I get there."

"I won't."

She is about to hang up when she hears him quietly say, "Scully".

"Yeah."

"Hurry."

It's the way he begs this one word that scares the shit out of her.

* * *

Their first stop is to Bob's Eats to see if the waitress is the same one as the night before and, if so, does she remember a strange little girl asking about candy. They are in luck. The same waitress is finishing her shift and she remembers Samantha and all of her questions about the chocolate bars and gum. The conversation left an impression with the woman. Looking back and forth between Mulder and Scully, she explains, "She wanted to know if they had Popeye Cigarettes. They call them 'Sticks' now. Do you know they aren't allowed to call Popeye Cigarettes 'cigarettes'. Isn't that the stupidest thing? As if anybody is going to start smoking because it looks like a cigarette. Like, who is going to eat a cigarette or smoke a candy?"

Scully thanks the woman for the information and ducks into the washroom to see if Samantha is there. She isn't. Nor has she returned to the restaurant.

"Don't worry, Mulder, we'll find her."

The fear on his face says otherwise. "I know," he tells her just in case it is showing.

They return to his building and are completely out of ideas; calling the police is the most logical thing to do but something tells Mulder this would be a mistake. He and Scully will check the apartment one more time and then contact the Lone Gunmen for help.

"Samantha!"

There she is. Sitting on the couch holding the phone in her hand. She is turning it over trying to understand how to use it . She has been trying to call home and a woman on the other end keeps telling her she has the wrong number.

"Where were you?" Samantha yells in barely masked terror.

"Me? Where the hell have you been?" Mulder temporarily forgets this is a child in a particular situation he is talking to. He crouches in front of her and hugs the life out of her. She clings to him tightly. If there is any doubt in Scully's mind that this is Mulder's sister, it is tossed aside as she watches these two together.

"I went out - I wanted to see where we are…. and got lost. I didn't know. I thought…."

"That's okay, we're all here now."

"I'm sorry." Samantha glances up from Mulder's shoulder and sees Scully. "Hi," she says but it isn't a particularly warm greeting.

"Are you all right, Samantha?" Scully asks carefully. Samantha Mulder has eyed her with suspicion since they met. It's interesting and Scully will keep tabs on this curious dynamic.

"Yes," the little girl answers.

"How did you get in?"

"The door wasn't locked."

Scully flew in, Mulder flew out - neither of them gave the door another thought.

Mulder is back on his feet "Don't go anywhere without me, " he tells her pointedly. "Or Agent Scully."

Another look, this time sharper, from Samantha to Agent Scully.

"Do you understand me?"

"Yes," she says to her brother's strange imitation of their father. Samantha shifts to the end of the couch. She hovers over the arm and looks carefully at the fish. "This isn't as big as the one in your room at home," she decides.

"What isn't?"

"This fish tank. The one you have is much bigger. And you have more fish."

"Oh." Mulder is trying to pay attention but failing. Another wave of _what the hell is going on here_ is flashing through his mind.

"You've always had fish?" Scully asks. "I never knew that."

"And it's come up in conversation _so_ many times," Mulder sighs. For a second, a flicker of the old Mulder slips through.

It occurs to Scully that there is a lot she could ask about the mysteries of her Mulder and their origins. The answers are all sitting on the couch, counting fish.

* * *

"Fox, I'm hungry."

Samantha is bored with the fish and has wandered into the kitchen where her brother and his friend are huddled in the corner talking in low, careful voices.

"I'll make you some lunch in a minute," Mulder promises as he leads Scully back towards the living room. No secrets here, he is trying to suggest.

Samantha drops down on the couch again, her short legs barely hitting the floor. She watches the private discussion continue in front of her in loud whispers.

"First things first, you've got to get her some new clothes."

"Why?" Mulder glances past Scully's shoulder at his sister. "She looks fine."

Scully tries not to roll her eyes at the obvious. "She only has the one outfit, Mulder."

He looks again. His sister is staring at him. He doesn't realize that he and Scully are doing what his parents did for all of their lives; discussing the children in front of the children in hushed, wary voices.

Scully's ringing phone cuts through the strange silence.

"Scully - " She turns her back to them just before mouthing, " _Skinner,"_ to Mulder.

Mulder mumbles a four-letter word before realizing who is listening. Samantha is looking at him in horror. He said that word. Their father never even said that word. Her friend Karen once said that word and was grounded for two weeks.

"…Yes sir. Yes, I'm with him now. He'll be fine. He was…." She wanders out of the room so that the Mulders don't have to hear her make up another lie she will have to keep track of.

"I'm on my way right now. I should be there in twenty minutes. Yes, I'll tell him. Goodbye."

"Tell him what?"

Mulder is standing in the door way with his arms folded.

"That he hopes to see you in the office tomorrow."

"That makes two of us."

Scully snaps the phone shut and wanders back to the living room. "Why don't I meet you both at the CityCenter later. We can find some clothes for Samantha and get something to eat. Have you been to the grocery store yet?"

"I've been a little preoccupied so far today."

"What's a CityCentre?" Samantha asks.

"A fancy name for a mall," Mulder explains. "I'll need to stop by the bank first to take out a loan before we go."

"You'll like it," Scully assures Samantha. "Lots to see. It's your brother's favourite place in the world."

Mulder walks her towards the door."Gee Scully, too bad you have to be going,"

As Mulder opens the door, Scully hesitates and starts and then stops a sentence. "This is none of my business but…."

"God, now what?"

She winces at the next words out of her mouth. "Your video collection?"

"What the hell does that - oh, right." He looks down at the floor then up at his partner. "Scully, this whole thing is one long endless detail, isn't it?"

She smiles at him and says only, "If you're lucky. Bye, Samantha. Look after your brother."

Mulder slowly and reluctantly closes the door behind Scully and returns to the new world in front of him.

Samantha is crouched in front of the television set, trying to find the ' _ON_ ' button. "How do you make this work?"

He crouches next to her and hands over the remote. "You have to use this. See? Watch what happens when I press this button." He points, puts a finger on the red button, and watches her face explode when the television turns on.

"How did you do that?"

"Televisions have come a long way. No more knobs to turn. No more getting up from the couch to change the channel. Come here." He pulls her over to the couch, puts a pillow behind her back and hands her the remote. "Press the button that says 'CH Up'. See? Watch - you're changing channels right from here."

They watch two news shows, two talk shows and four movies in ten seconds. Samantha sits in awe. "I don't have to get up?"

"No. And you can make it louder with this, too."

"Wow. You always make me change the channels."

"Sorry about that. I was a little bossy."

"You're a lot bossy."

"You were bossy, too."

"No, I'm not. I want to find some more." She flips through the channels two or three more times. Mulder sits next to her, watching this little girl catch up so many years and not age a minute.

"Fox, what did she mean by that?" Samantha suddenly asks.

"Who - by what?"

"Mrs. Scully. She said to 'look after my brother'."

"You can call her 'Dana'. I _still_ call her mother Mrs. Scully. This is Dana."

"Then why do you call her Scully? And why does she call you Mulder?"

"That's what we do in the FBI. Everyone calls each other by their last name."

"Why does anyone need to look after you anymore? You're grown up now."

"Turns out even grown-ups need looking after. Scully - Dana - is my friend and friends do that - they …. look out for each other."

Samantha has noticed that Scully doesn't talk to her the way her parents' friends do, or parents of her own friends. Not once has Scully called her _Dear_ or _Sweetie_. Or asked any of the boring questions adults are capable of. No, there is something not quite right about her.

"Is she your girlfriend?"

This question, as reasonable as it is, takes him by surprise. "No - she's my - we work together. She's my partner. And my friend."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Uh - no, not really."

"Does she have a boyfriend?"

"No."

"Then why isn't she your ….. Never mind."

The math is obvious; the equation, not so much.

"Who are your other friends? Is that guy Clifford from your basketball team still your friend?"

He instantly knows who she means. Cliff Sharpe. Mulder's friend from school. The only friend he ever brought home because Cliff's family life was odder than Mulder's. Cliff's mother liked to drink and, thus, Cliff considered Mulder's family the safe one.

His name could be as ridiculous as Mulder's. When teachers would read names Last-Name-First it was always _Sharpe, Cliff_ and everyone got a kick out of it except Cliff Sharpe. But he never laughed when he heard the name _Fox_ called out and Mulder never laughed when the _Sharp, Cliff_ was mentioned.

"No. I haven't seen Cliff in a long time."

"Then who is your best friend now?"

He doesn't need the time he takes to answer this question. His best friend is on her way to lie to their boss for him. Again.

"Donno," he shrugs. "It's hard to pick one from so many."

A crack of lightening flies past the window. It has been raining for an hour now. It is supposed to rain for the rest of the day.

"Better get us some lunch. We'll stay in and try out the channels this afternoon. Peanut butter sandwich okay?" he asks as he heads into the kitchen.

But she isn't paying attention. She has her fist around that remote control and is trying out every button there is.

"Are you taking me shopping later?" she yells after him.

"Yup."

"Fox, the channel is fuzzy - never mind it went back. Is she going to be there?"

"Scully? Yes."

He is embarrassed to admit that he wishes Scully were here now to make all of the decisions concerning this little girl. He doesn't have a clue. He didn't know much about little girls when he had one as a sister and he sure as hell doesn't have a clue about them now.

Samantha asks about every little thing in his apartment. She wants to know about the phones, the radio, the little record albums that her brother keeps referring to as CDs. His cell phone awes her most of all. The first time it rings, she jumps back in fear. When the name of the caller appears, that fear turns into amazement. Microwave, battery chargers; things that Mulder has taken for granted he now looks at with pride at how far the world has come. She thinks he is a magician. She thinks he has all of the answers and all of the power. She asks a lot of questions, stores the answers in her head, and works out the logic as she goes .

The entire afternoon is filled with questions and observations from his sister. But not once does she ask about their parents.

The shopping trip is an unusual, very unprecedented and reasonable success.

Two hours after starting, Mulder, Scully and Samantha end up in the food court.

"I like restaurants better," Samantha observes.

"Food courts are faster," Mulder informs her, diving his mouth into the waiting burger in his hands.

She looks at him as if he is nuts. But he is finally becoming familiar to her. This is her brother who would rather eat than explain something of substance. When he is done with his hamburger and fries, he will come up with a subject and discuss it forever or until everyone leaves the table.

While Mulder devours his burger, Samantha stirs restlessly and asks if she can go to the bathroom by herself. This is the Samantha he remembers. Un-intimidated by walking through a crowded group of strangers to get to what she needs.

The washrooms are close and well within eye sight. Mulder and Scully look at each other. Scully's _why-not_ shrug is the answer and Mulder tells his sister, yes, but talk to nobody.

"What if they talk to me?"

"You don't talk. Be back in two minutes."

"Okay."

She hops off the chair and carefully works her way through the other diners and tables and tray holders and everything else.

Mulder's eye never leaves her until she disappears through the door with the big WOMEN sign hanging over it.

"I'll go check on her in a moment," Scully promises. This will go over great with Samantha. "You know, I've never see a child become so excited by a spiral notebook. More than the iPod you got her."

Mulder's credit card has taken a beating in the last two hours. Samantha was pleased and puzzled by something called an iPod which Mulder bought for her with the promise that she will love watching TV in a new way. She smiled politely and thanked him.

But a few stores later, Samantha tore into Office Depot and ran up and down the aisles until she hit the School Supply corner. Notebooks, more notebooks, every size imaginable. All for her. They had all sizes, all types of covers. Some of them had lots of space between the lines, not the tiny spaced kind.

Mulder bought her five notebooks, one package of colour pencils and one pack of regular pencils, two erasers. And a pencil sharpener. She was in heaven.

"She was crazy about notebooks," Mulder explains. "She used to like drawing in them. Write stories. That kind of thing." He reaches for the rest of his coke. "I couldn't figure out what her stories were about. She had terrible handwriting."

"For an eight-year old?" Scully asks sarcastically. "And what were _you_ doing reading her books?"

"I was nosey. She wouldn't let me or our parents come near them. So I looked."

"If I caught any of my brothers looking through any of my….."

"Oh, Scully, keep a diary, did we?"

"Of course."

"Let me guess. Your brothers would have been toast if you found them near your books."

"Exactly."

"Got news for you. _They_ _looked_."

"How in the hell do you know _that_?"

He shrugs. "I just do. We brothers stick together in violating the written privacy of our sisters. Trust me. They looked."

He knows she is squirming inside; remembering every private, thought, sentence and paragraph she left open to her brothers. He loves it when he hits the right Scully-Button. She will never tell him he has perfect aim. Too much to lose.

"Just promise me you will stay out of Samantha's notebooks, okay, Mulder? On behalf of all the sisters who have had their written secrets violated by siblings who just couldn't stop themselves. You will do that?"

"Sure," he promises and puts his right hand in the air. "Scouts honour."

"Oh, you were a boy scout now?"

"God, no. They'd never take me."

Mulder drains this memory out of his mind and thinks about the new iPod. She will never understand this thing, or WIFI or even fax machines or electric typewriters. What if she never catches up. What if he doesn't explain any of it correctly. The anxiety train comes roaring back.

"What is it?" Scully asks, reading his face correctly.

"Are these enough?" On the chair between Scully and Samantha are three bags full of new clothes. Scully was the fashion assistant. Mulder, the wallet who stood on the sidelines.

"She has what she needs for now. Its fine."

"You don't think it was too much for her? All of that shopping? Seeing other kids her age who look so different?"

"No. Not for her."

Mulder looks even more worried. "For you?"

"No. _You_. You've got to relax or she is going to pick up on your anxiety and I think she has enough of her own."

He breathes out and leans back against the chair. "I'm trying like hell, Scully."

"Has she asked about your parents at all?"

"Not a word. Which is fine with me because I don't really want to tell her how our lives have transpired since she left." Mulder sips from his coke. "While at the same time, I want to know _everything_ \- what she remember about our parents; about me. Did she know she was living in the midst of a fractured family or did our parents do a good job of keeping that away from her world?" He reaches over and grabs one of Samantha's fries. "I feel as lost as she does. Enough worrying. What was Skinner like today?"

"He had a few questions about your health. I am not sure he believed me."

He didn't. But it was Skinner's belief that when Scully lies, she usually has a good reason.

"I think you - we should tell him, Mulder. Otherwise, we'll be keeping too many secrets and one of them is going to get back to him. At the very least you're going to need a lot of time off and we're going to have arrange some kind of …. baby sitting."

The words sound ridiculous when they are said aloud.

"Frohicke and the boys?" Scully suggests.

A shrug from Mulder. "Your mother?"

Another eye roll. This would be too much to explain or expect her mother to understand.

"By the way, I've booked a lab for tomorrow morning. I'll need blood and DNA samples from both of you."

Mulder isn't listening. His eyes are glued to the doorway of the Women's Room. He is thinking of twenty-different ways she could be taken from there and never be seen again. He shouldn't have let her go alone.

"I'll go check on her," Scully, ever the mind reader offers. Mulder watches her wind her way through the closely pack tables and slow moving people holding trays and absently wonders what Scully would be like as the mother of a teenager. Something tells him the teenager wouldn't stand a chance.

* * *

Scully peers into the mirror and straightens her hair. For some reason, a strand behind her ear keeps wandering to the front and she keeps seeing this from the corner of her eye.

One of the toilet flushes and Samantha wanders out, keeping a steady eye on Scully. She parks four sinks away, next to a tall woman applying way too much make up. She washes her hands and quickly dries them on her pants.

"Everything okay, Samantha?" Scully inquires. She has noticed the once-over Samantha gives her. It's not too far from hostility.

"Fine," Samantha mumbles and hurries out of the room.

The woman with the lipstick smiles and says kindly, "Don't worry, they come around eventually."

"Excuse me?"

"Your boyfriend's daughter. She'll come around. She just needs to get used to the situation …."

Scully is about to correct the woman's kind misinformation but she can't.

 _She's not his …. He's not my._ … None of it will sound right, even a plausible denial. Because none of it is right.

"I hope so," is all she says. She smiles graciously and leaves.


	3. Chapter 3

"Stop squirming, Mulder, you're making this difficult."

Scully is leaning forward, carefully trying to draw blood from Mulder's arm but he is too jittery today to be anything near cooperative.

"Then stop stabbing me."

"Your sister wasn't this bad."

Samantha had her blood taken and barely blinked. Now she is sitting in the hallway with a People Magazine on her lap wondering who in the hell these people are.

Scully slams a Band-Aid on his arm and puts his finger on it. "Keep it there for a moment. Mulder doesn't it seem odd to you that your sister is taking these tests rather …. calmly? What child has blood taken and doesn't throw a fit beforehand."

"Obviously you did," he observes as he peeks under his finger. "When do you think you'll get the results back?"

"I'll put a rush on them. I'll change her name on the paperwork. I don't want the wrong people getting curious."

"Good thinking."

He hops off the table, trying to put on his jacket with one arm.

They look through the glass and see Samantha flipping quickly through the magazine as if it is written in French. On her lap is a shabby book-bag she found under a pile of Mulder's shoes. MUFON '93 is written in big blue letters. Inside the bag are two notebooks and three coloured pencils and the iPod. She holds the magazine away from the bag as if she doesn't want to contaminate her things.

"You know," Scully says, "that magazine didn't come out until a year after she disappeared. I wonder what she makes of it."

"She used to buy those teenybopper magazines with her allowance. The Partridge Family, Donny Osmond. Even Michael Jackson before he got strange." He nudges her in the shoulder. "Be honest, Scully, you read those, didn't you?"

"Of course."

He hadn't expected such a quick non-denial. "And who was your fave?" He pronounces fave as if it is a suggestive word.

"Davy Jones."

"The Monkee? The old guy?"

Scully smiles. "I had a thing for older men even back then, Mulder. What about Samantha? Did she have posters of anybody specific on her wall?"

"Some teenage boy with long hair."

"That's so helpful."

Mulder opens the door and follows Scully into the hallway.

"Are you feeling okay, Samantha? Not too dizzy?"

She gives the magazine one more disbelieving stare and drops it on the chair next to her. "No. I'm fine. Can we go to another mall for lunch, Fox?"

A careful look between the two adults. "Uh, no. Actually we need to get back to the office for a meeting with our boss. Do you want to see where Scully and I work?"

He cringes inside. Do you want to see where mommy and daddy work?

"Then can we go to another mall?"

"Sure," Mulder says. "I need to do some work this afternoon though. If I leave you in the office with a VCR, could you watch some movies for a while? Or use your iPod. Or do some drawing."

"VCR -which one is that?"

"The one you slip that big tape into."

"Um. Maybe. Let's go. I don't like it here."

Samantha pulls Mulder's hand into hers and leads him away from Scully and this lab. No, she doesn't like it here.

* * *

Skinner watches his two agents file into his office as if they are going to bring him some disturbing news. Maybe not disturbing news: bad news.

She leads the way and they both sit down like nervous synchronized swimmers. Mulder looks at Scully. She holds that look and nods.

This is a good sign, Skinner thinks. This is not about Scully's health.

"Sorry to barge in like this, Sir," Mulder begins. "We - Scully and I - we - there is something we need to talk to you about."

"Oh?" The moment Skinner has been dreading all these years. They are involved in a relationship, the one people have been guessing about for years. Now Skinner is going to have to take this information to his superiors and they are not going to like it.

Mulder is staring at him. "Sir?"

"Nothing. Go ahead Mulder."

Ruin my life for the next few days until I can talk them off the ceiling.

"Okay well, it's a little unexpected."

Shit, she is pregnant. Agent Mulder has gotten Agent Scully pregnant. This is worse than the official disclosure of an inter-office relationship.

Mulder is still trying to preface what he is trying to say. Finally, Scully sighs and picks up the pace. "Sir, as you know, Agent Mulder's sister disappeared in 1973."

Skinner breathes again. She is not pregnant. "Yes, I seem to recall having heard something about that over the years. Would one of you please tell me what is going on here."

More glances. Finally, Mulder breathes. "Sir, I don't know how this happened but … my sister has returned."

"Returned?" Skinners turn to throw looks between them. "How do you mean returned? Do you mean they found her body?"

"No. Not exactly. We found …. her."

Mulder goes to the door and opens it. He slips out of sight for a few seconds. They hear him softly reassure someone. In a moment, he returns, holding his nervous sister's hand.

"Sir, this is my sister, Samantha Mulder. Samantha, this is the man I told you about."

Both Skinner and Samantha stare at the other, one stunned, the other nervous.

'She's your sister?" Skinner almost stammers.

"Yes, sir. Samantha, bring that chair over-"

Samantha stands on tip-toes and whispers something into his ear.

"Yeah. Sure. Sit tight and we'll be out in a second."

Timidly, Samantha looks at her brother, then the carpet and she leaves the office for safety.

Mulder sits down again. "I don't know how to explain it, Sir. I came home a few nights ago and there she was. We are telling you now because we need your help."

"Hold on, Mulder -" Skinner sits back, trying to absorb all of this. "How can this be your sister? That girl is …."

"Eight," Scully helps. "Sir, we have run some tests and are waiting for the results. Mulder is trying to organize some regression therapy."

"Which you once dismissed as being less than reliable evidence."

"I realize that but we need to know what we don't know. I believe, as does Agent Mulder, that this might help us down that path."

"Until then," Mulder continues, "I need to make arrangements for looking after her."

"Mulder, you are moving way too fast here. You are going to take this child into your home?"

"She's my sister."

"Which Scully says you still need to confirm with test results."

"That won't take long."

"And if the results somehow say that this is not your sister, then what are you going to do?"

"Nothing different than what I've said. I know this is hard to understand, but I simply wanted you to know what was going on because Scully and I will require extra time away from the office."

Skinner turns to Scully. "Is he talking about Paternity Leave?"

"Yes, Sir. We can't leave Samantha on her own, and Mulder and I are going to split shifts looking after her. She has already wandered off once from Mulder's apartment."

"So you want some kind of leave too?"

"No, Sir, that's not what we're saying…."

But she does know this is exactly what she is saying, she just doesn't actually want it. Somehow she has been swept into this Instant Time-Shifting Family.

Skinner waves consent with one hand in the air. "Fine. We can make some kind of arrangement. What are you going to do about getting official documents for her?"

"We have arranged with the Lone Gunmen to create some kind of legal paper trail for her; social security number, school records-"

"No, wait, it's better that I not know."

"Thank you," Scully says.

"What are you going to do about her name? 'Mulder' might raise a few red flags in the system."

"I've considered that. Scully doesn't agree."

"No, I don't. She needs to belong to you, Mulder."

Mulder's eyes widen. "Or you."

"No - don't."

"Look, Scully, if for whatever reason I did have a child, you are the one I would ask to be the guardian. I trust you with my power of attorney, with my medical wishes, I trust you with everything I hold dear in this life."

"She needs to have your last name," Scully says. "Or ask her if she wants to use her middle name. Or invent one of her own."

"Great. 'Willow Mulder'."

Skinner stands up. "That's for another discussion. Keep me up to date. That's all agents."

He watches them leave his office. He was right to suspect that something was up when they came in but Skinner had it backwards. Scully isn't pregnant. Mulder is.

* * *

Scully stays behind to finish up any last legacy of paperwork they need to get out of the way. If they are going to become a tag-team babysitting duo, they will need to clear as much from their desks as possible.

She is exhausted. Mulder's dramas are beginning to wear her down. Mutant creatures trying to kill them are one thing - watching this eight-year-old girl try to sort out this new world is where the real stress is at.

Right now, that drama is quietly playing out in the parking garage.

Mulder buckles up and waits for the little person next to him to do the same thing. "Seatbelt. It's the law. Everybody has to wear one."

"We never had to."

"And it's a miracle any of us from the seventies made it into the eighties. Seatbelt - now."

Grudgingly, she does as she is told.

"I need to make one stop," Mulder tells her.

"No."

He turns. "No?"

"I want to go home."

"We will as soon as we make one more stop. Besides I thought you wanted to go to the mall."

"They don't have any Tiger Beat magazines. Nobody does." For emphasis, she slams her foot against the dashboard.

"Okay. Well, I suppose we could order some old copies from somewhere." He half suspects Scully may have a box or so tucked away in the attic of her mother's house.

"No!"

"What is wrong with you?"

He pulls out of the parking spot and is just about to crawl up the first ramp when he hears her demand, "How do I know you're my brother? You could be some dumb old guy pretending to be Fox."

"Oh my God, Samantha."

He maneuvers around a concrete post and pulls into a handicapped spot. He can't believe he just heard this. "The fact that we still look alike doesn't count? How I can tell you every single bit of your life, even the parts I wasn't in the room for, which included every single time you got caught snooping in Mom's purse for her lipsticks. We can compare photographs, we can have me fingerprinted against some object I still have from my childhood we can -"

She is looking at him as if he is speaking Latin. He feels like a blithering Latin idiot.

"I'm your brother, Samantha, and I'm going to look after you whatever comes next. Your memories of how you got here will return and as they do we'll join the pieces together."

She sits back and folds her arms. "I want to watch the Partridge Family."

"You can't. I checked. It's not on video yet."

"Then find it on the TV."

This reminds him of something his mother used to say. When Samantha became angry, she shut down and went to her room. But when she was feeling sad or scared, she became unreasonably demanding until everything spilled out. His mother could always tell the difference. Now, all these years, Mulder finally sees what she meant.

"I'll check," he promises. "I'll check."

"When?"

"Later. We'll forget the mall and just go home. I'll show you all the photographs you want, if you still don't believe we're related."

"Not your home, mine. My home!"

Silence.

"I know," Mulder whispers. "Sometimes that's all I want, too. But home is gone. Mom and dad. They are gone."

"How do you know? Did you see them go?"

"Yes - Dad. I was with him." It was a murder.

"And Mom?"

"No, I wasn't with her." It was a suicide.

"Then how did they die?"

"Heart attacks," he lies kindly and stares down at the steering wheel. Their parents died of traditional, elderly causes. She will never have to know any more than that.

There is a noise. He turns. It is the heartbreaking sob of a little girl whose worlds, old and new, just crumbled down into the earth in front of her.

* * *

There is no Partridge Family anywhere on any TV station that Fox Mulder could possibly get. When he calls Scully to ask her, she thinks he is putting her on; the conversation goes on for a few minutes until she realizes he really wants to know. No, unfortunately, she doesn't know where he can find the show. But she makes him promise if he finds a channel, perhaps he would let her know which one it is.

So, instead, the Mulders are sitting elbow to elbow on the couch, each of them pointing a bobbing controller at the television to kill the other's ship. Byers has found a box of old controllers and video games and loaned them to Mulder. Samantha was given ten minutes of instruction and is now kicking her brother's ass. Their feet are on the coffee table, Mulders shoes are at least a foot ahead of the size 6 next to him.

"Do you remember what they fought about?"

This comes out of nowhere. Samantha doesn't lose her focus on the game as she waits for an answer. Mulder, surprised, pauses long enough for her to take out two more of his planes.

"Mom and dad?" he asks, trying to sound evenly matched with both the question and the game.

"You remember how they would stand there in front of us and whisper as if we weren't even there?"

"Even when we were in the same room." Mulder smirks. "They didn't understand the concept of whispering."

"You do that. You and her. Agent Scully."

"Do what?"

"Whisper in front of me. Just like they did. I can't hear what you're talking about but I know it's about me."

"I do?" He does. "Sorry. I didn't realize that I did that too. I won't do it anymore."

"Good. I don't like it."

"I know. But it's nothing bad that we're talking about - we just want to figure out what's best for you. It could be worse. Remember when mom and dad went down to the basement and they would yell and then their voices would get quiet and then start up again."

"And then that cold-storage door would slam."

The cold-storage room. Nobody could hear a thing from there. It was usually a sign to the kids that this argument was going to be long, loud and could Fox please put his sister to bed.

Mulder slams a torpedo into one of her ships. "Didn't see that coming, did you? I don't know what they were yelling about, Samantha. Those days…." The ache of Those Days was only surpassed as the title of worst-days-of-his-childhood by the disappearance of his sister. Then, the earlier 'Those Days' seemed like a piece of cake.

"Nobody else's parents had a divorce. Why did ours? Are you sure he didn't just go to stay with his brother?"

"I'm sure," Mulder tells her quietly. "And you know, it was better when he moved out. It was okay."

"Did he ever come and visit you and Mom?"

"No. I saw him once in a while. He had a busy job."

"Do you think he went away because of me?"

Mulder stops stabbing the controller in the air and looks down at his sister. "I think so," he tells her as easily as he dares. "They both missed you so much … I think it was easier for him to miss you by himself. For mom too."

This time it is Samantha who stops the controller action. She stares down at her hands. "Did you miss me?"

"Did I miss - yes, Samantha, more than you will ever - why would you ask me that?"

"Because you were always fighting or picking on me or calling me names."

"I was teasing you - " He was teasing. He was a teaser. He wasn't a bully. Was he? Mulder plucks the controller from her hands. "You thought I was picking on you? I got impatient maybe but you were my kid sister - we teased and picked on each other."

This seems to perk her up. "I picked on you?"

"You did a better job of it than I did. That's how we got along. When Mom and dad started their fights, though, you and I - we never teased each other then. We looked out for each other. Don't you remember?"

One of them would drag the other into their bedroom and they would play word games as loudly as they could. They knew they could scream the answers with a megaphone and their parents would never hear them.

She is slowly shaking her head. "Sort of. But not really."

"Well we did. " He drops the controller back onto her lap. "And we had fun."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

 _'I like Fox's friends,_ _Melvin said I should respect my elders and call uncle Ringo, 'Uncle Buttface' instead. He's so funny. Melvin is in love with Dana. He calls her, Miss Scully. Why can't she be his girlfriend and leave me and Fox alone. I guess she is nice and all but she's always there and I don't like her.'_

* * *

The Lone Gunmen have done it again. Mulder will never know how - as a Federal Agent, he must _never_ know how - but within two days of being asked, they have created an administratively flawless Samantha Fox, Aged 8, orphan of William and Barbara Fox, distant relation to the Mulders, but close enough that Bill Mulder's son should take their family name and raise their only child.

Mulder and Scully sit across from each other at Mulder's now-used dining table going through the paper and the plastic; each piece is more impressive than the last.

"Mulder - how - where did they get these from …"

"I don't know but let's thank God they are on the right side of the law."

The boys have invented a brand new eight-year-old girl. She has a Social Security Number. She has school documents. Even dental records. She is the real thing.

"Frohicke was surprised that this wasn't as hard as he thought," Mulder observes, passing an ID to Scully.

"Social Security number? Frohicke is too smart for his own good."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Mulder advises. "A compliment is as good as a nod to a smitten man. He still carries a torch for you, you know."

She rolls her eyes but she is still a little flattered after all these years. "Does Samantha know she is now …. official?"

"I don't think she cares. She's carrying on an exclusive relationship with the iTunes account I set up for her."

"Are you sure you want to hit her so fast with the technology?" Scully carefully loads the pieces of identification into the manila folders.

"She doesn't know about the internet. She thinks it's all magic. You want some more coffee, Scully?" He picks up their mugs and takes then into the kitchen.

"No thanks,"

She can hear cups delicately landing in an already full sink. "Mulder?"

"Yeah," he yells.

She gets up and goes to the kitchen. This is not the kind of conversation one hollers through walls with the subject of that conversation a mere room away.

The sink is full of dishes and glasses and cutlery and bowls - it looks as though an extra person has landed in his life. "Samantha never did dishes at home. She played the 'I'm Too Short' card. Now, all she does is load up my sink with them. I think it's time she got a little lesson in payback. You want to stay for dinner?"

Scully leans back against the counter and folds her arms tentatively. "Mulder, have you noticed that Samantha hasn't really warmed up to me yet?"

He stops what he is doing and turns around her. "Yes," he says, curious about this discovery.

"At the mall the other day, a woman thought I was your girlfriend and Samantha was your daughter with her nose-out-of joint."

Mulder laughs.

"I'm serious, Mulder. Do you think that she could see me as some kind of threat? Mother figure? Something else?"

"A mother figure? She should be so lucky."

"I think she see's you somewhere between a father and brother; I think I am the potential threat who could possibly take you away from her."

"You're over thinking this. She's a kid in an entirely new world. She'll come around. That's just Samantha."

"Was she like this when you were younger?"

"Not normally. But every so often, she could go very silent, very observant watching people. Well, our parents in particular. It was as if she were the only one who sensed something was coming. Look, don't take it personally."

"I'm not."

"Are you sure? You sound as though you are."

"Well, I'm not. Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Do you have a headache?"

Damn Mulder and his neurological telepathy as her eyes seem to shrink into her head when she has a headache.

"No. So you dispel my theory that there is some kind of threat behind my presence? A complete stranger picked up on it and now _, I'm_ the stranger."

"That's your example? She hasn't warmed up to a new person after spending years upon years in some world we'll never know about?"

"It's more than that …."

"Look, she'll come around. Kids do."

"Oh, you've had vast experience with children?"

"No. But they are almost like adults, just a little more…. immature. Just give it some time, Scully. Besides, she knows you're part of the package."

"The package?"

"Yes," he says, wondering what part of this logic she is not understanding.

"Since when have I become part of a package?"

He thinks this over and shrugs. "Since you first walked into my office, I guess." There's a dangerous, tempting silence until he adds, "It's in the same category as Dog People when they say, "Love me, love my dog."

"Perhaps you had better stop while you are ahead."

He nods. Putting Dog People and Scully into the same metaphor isn't always the best idea. "Let's go sit down. I need to pass something by you."

He tosses a current copy of Tiger Beat out of the way and sits down on the couch. Scully moves a Mars Bar wrapper out of the way and sees a scattering of fish food on the floor.

"I'm thinking of moving." Mulder announces, putting his feet on the coffee table.

"Mulder, I think you might want to show Samantha how to feed the fish - _what_?"

"If I spend one more night on this couch, I'm going to need a back brace. We can't live here, it's too small."

"Mulder - don't make that decision so quickly. It's too soon."

"You're not the one dodging springs in your back every night. I suppose I could buy a pull-out but I've never used one that was even remotely comfortable."

She holds up her hand as if this will stop his mind from jumping years ahead of itself. "There is something else I need you to think about, Mulder."

"What? I got rid of the videos."

"No, it's not - have you thought that for as quickly and suddenly that Samantha appeared into this - your world, she could just as easily vanish."

 _Again_ , is not said.

"Yes, I've considered that."

"And?"

"And what? For as long as she is here, she'll be looked after. And hopefully, that will be for a long time. You don't need to worry, Scully. I know the emotional risks. I've been hit over the head with them so many other times that this really doesn't feel like much of a stretch." He waits for the rebuttal. There isn't one. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes."

No.

"Good. Are you staying for dinner?"

She wants to say 'no'. She wants to go home and crawl into a hot bath but the idea of leaving Mulder to make more life decisions without her is too dangerous. "Sure," she finally sighs.

Mulder sets the table. He has never used this table as much as he has in the past few days.

Scully sits on the couch watching him bring out cutlery, dishes, napkins, and glasses. She would offer to help but her headache is back and besides it is more interesting to watch Mulder showing signs of domesticity. He does a good job.

"What are you eating?" he asks, placing the knives carefully.

He has caught her downing an aspirin.

"Vitamin. Keeps me healthy."

"Like it did last week?" he snorts from the other room. He will dine out on proving Scully mortal for as long as he can.

"I wasn't sick, Mulder. I needed some time away from you. There's a big difference."

* * *

The pizza arrives and Mulder sticks his head into the bedroom. "Dinner… No, don't bring that to the table." He is pointing to the book bag that has now been surgically attached to her arm.

"I have to keep it in case I need to draw something or write a -"

"I can guarantee you that nothing interesting will happen in the next ten minutes. You ever going to let me see any of those books?"

"No. And you can't snoop." Samantha reluctantly places the bag just inside the room and closes the door behind her. She won't tell him that she has the iPod stuffed away in her back pocket. He doesn't have to know everything.

"Go sit down. Scully's about to rip into the pizza."

"She's still here?"

"Yeah. Problem with that?"

"No."

"Good."

* * *

Dinner is fast and furious and ends with Samantha carrying the dishes into the kitchen and hurrying back to watch the iPod. Mulder cannot wait to catch a game on TV. Scully cannot wait to go home.

"Thanks for the pizza," Scully says, bringing the box into the kitchen.

Mulder leans over and grabs the last, cold slice. "This place makes the best pie. Samantha pointed it out on the way home yesterday."

"I would have thought you had every place in DC pinned on your wall, Mulder. Wonders never cease.… Are you really going to eat that cold?"

He beams at the challenge and stuffs the rest of the slice into his mouth.

"That's disgusting," Scully tells him.

"F'hank you," comes the muffled reply.

"It's a proud day for the bureau." She waits until he swallows the last morsel before heading towards the door. "I'll call you tomorrow, Mulder."

He drags a napkin across his mouth and follows. "Stick around for the game. It's going to be a good one."

"I know better than to stand between a man and his basketballs."

He is about to make a clever joke about half of the word, 'basketball' but stops. "Scully, what's wrong?"

She has suddenly doubled over in pain, her hand is on her stomach and her face is dangerously pale. "I don't know," she gasps as if she has been ploughed by a canon ball.

Mulder helps her to the couch. "Here, sit," he softly orders and crouches in front of her. "Do you need to use the bathroom?"

"No, it's not that kind of pain. It's ….. I don't know what it is."

"Food poisoning?"

"I ate what you both ate. Damnit…." Another wave of pain after another.

"See if lying down helps."

He moves a pillow under her head as she lies down and tries not to curl up into a ball of pain.

"Any better?"

"A little."

He checks her forehead. No fever. She is almost white and it doesn't look like the pain is over yet.

"Talk to me, Scully."

"It's fine." She pauses for air

"I'm calling 911."

"No - don't."

"Then we'll go to the hospital."

"Give me a few moments, Mulder, it will pass. It's starting to ebb."

He does as he is told. In a minute, he sees her colour begin to return.

"Well?"

"It's going away." She slowly sits up and swings her legs over the cushions.

"Don't get up yet."

"I'm fine, Mulder. I'm sorry I scared you like that. I'm fine. I'm going home.

"And if whatever this is comes back while you drive?"

"It won't."

Mulder stands up. "Samantha, get your coat."

"Now?" Her little voice whines from the other room.

"Now," Mulder calls back.

"I can drive myself home," says Scully tightly.

"That makes two of us. Let's go."

* * *

The decision to drive Scully home is the kind Mulder makes without a thought. He doesn't think about logistics such as how she will get her car back tomorrow. Does he drive it over to her - does she cab over to him; none of that occurs to Mulder. It will usually occur to Scully. Tonight, it only occurs to Samantha.

"But how is she going to get to work if she doesn't have her car?" Samantha asks from behind. She would like to lean forward and stick her head between the front seats for an answer but since Fox has made up this dumb seatbelt rule, that is out of the question. It is bad enough she is delegated to the back seat while She Who Never Goes Away gets the coveted passenger seat. Samantha has recently found out that the phrase, 'Riding Shotgun' means to sit next to the driver, shotgun at the ready in case any enemies might be aiming for their heads; but in this case, the enemy is riding shotgun so it doesn't actually do anybody any good.

Samantha follows the two adults into Scully's apartment and loses a breath when she sees this open, beautiful home. It is like a chalet she once saw in a magazine of her mother's. Her mother left the magazine open to that page and kept it in her bedside drawer; she would pull it out and dream when the real world became too close.

Samantha wanders around the perimeter of the apartment while the quiet voices of the adults drift in and out of her radar. Scully has a lot of pretty things - paintings, furniture, curtains; there are a lot of photographs of people - one is another pretty lady; she looks like Scully so she is probably a sister.

"Samantha, out of there," she hears her brother order as she wanders into Scully's bedroom.

She ignores him and helps herself to a dab of perfume. She tries on a lipstick and finds a drawer of lingerie. She wonders if Fox knows this drawer exists. Probably not. He isn't very bright that way, she has decided.

She wanders out of the bedroom and steps into the bathroom where there is a shining, white claw foot tub. This is the nicest bathroom she has ever seen.

In the background she can hear the bossy voice of her brother: "If it happens again, call 911. Or your mother. Or me."

Samantha's ears perk up. Scully has a mother? It's probably not so farfetched. She wonders if there is a father. It's hard to imagine this woman has any kind of life besides hanging around Fox.

"Samantha, can you ….." He brother appears in the doorway. "Are you wearing lipstick?"

"I just wanted to try it."

"Its fine, Mulder," Scully's tired voice pipes up from the other room.

Mulder gives Samantha one of his 'don't-even-think-about-it' stares and disappears back to the living room because he has more to say. He has a lot to say these days, most of it having to do with his sister. He is asking when Scully will get the test results.

Scully tells him she will call tomorrow and she sounds a little annoyed.

Samantha carefully leaves Scully's room and slips into the guest room. In the corner, there is a shelf of books. On the bottom shelf is a pile of photo albums. Some of them look old enough to be from her days. The Mulders didn't collect photographs the way most families did. When Samantha's class had to do a project on their family histories, Samantha had to ask her friend Linda if she could borrow some pictures of her grandparents.

Mulder's voice is getting closer. He asks for the millionth time if Scully is sure that she is feeling better.

Yes, she's feeling better, Samantha wants to answer. But she doesn't. She finds an interesting looking photo album and sits down on the carpet for a closer look. She is out of her brother's line of sight which should buy her a little time. She can hear him call her name a few times but she is too engaged in this album to pay attention.

The faded marker on the spine says _1973_. The pages are intriguing. They are scattered with pictures of a family - two boys, two girls and two adults - in various combinations. An adult's handwriting is below each photograph but it is hard to read. The family is vacationing on a beach. A few pages later, it is Halloween. They are regular family moments scattered in between events. Two boys and one girl are on a backyard trampoline. Another shows the younger boy holding a cat.

She doesn't notice a tall shadow getting larger on the wall.

" Samantha, this isn't yours." Her brother is standing behind her.

He is about to reach down and pull it out of her hands but she is too fast and yanks the book away. "I wanted to see the photographs of someone's family. You don't have any."

He does. They are stored so far out of sight because he didn't think he would want to see them again. "That's not the point. You can't come into Scully's home and rifle through her things."

"Why not? You're the one that dragged me over here."

"And I'll be the one dragging you home without your iPod."

She lets this sink in. Her need to snoop is not as great as her need to watch the tiny TV. "Fine."

She is about to close it but her brother's hand swoops down and snatches it. "Hold on a sec…." He brings the book closer to his face to confirm what he thinks he sees; a blurry photo of Scully and Melissa in a bedroom. On the wall behind them is a colour poster. "I knew it," he seethes with pleasure.

"What?"

He points to the poster. "I knew she was bluffing about her older-man crushes."

"Donny Osmond's not old. I think he's your age. Well - I guess he's old now. Remember mom gave me his album for my birthday?" Her mind drifts to that birthday morning.

He isn't listening. Sadly, Mulder returns the book to Samantha and leaves the room with a disappointed sigh. His gloating won't be happening. He can't show his discovery to Scully because that would imply a direct invasion of her privacy and he knows how she feels about that.

Samantha continues flipping through the pages. More dates, more information.

There is a photograph of the family at a Remembrance Day celebration. A somber photograph. Nobody is smiling; nobody is allowed to smile. There isn't even a caption. Just, _"November 11,"_ written very carefully. Her father is wearing a military uniform. He is probably in that war that Fox keeps talking about. Sometimes it's the only thing her family talks about at the dinner table. Her father and Fox have different opinions and it's the only time she sees her brother face down their father and be listened to. Fox thinks America should come home because people shouldn't die for no good reason. At least that's how their mother explains it to her.

The next page is livelier. _November 22 - Thanksgiving!_ Dana and Charlie at the table. Margaret fixing dinner, Bill Jr. pretending to drink a bottle of wine: _Future Bartender_ , the caption says. Scully's brother is cute. He looks a little like Kurt Russell.

More pictures of the girls, a few of the two boys. Bill Jr., and Charlie at Thanksgiving dinner working on a puzzle. A few photographs of the family around the table are on the next page. They aren't exceptional photographs of exceptional people. Instead they are real photographs of real people and Samantha is suddenly so overwhelmed by sadness she thinks she might cry.

She is about to slam the book shut but she can't. Her attention falls to the bottom of the left hand page. A photograph was once here but now it is missing. She can tell because the four corners are still there. There is a notation under the blank space.

The date is written clearly: _November 27, 1973._

* * *

"I want to go home," she mumbles to Mulder's back in the kitchen. She keeps her book bag carefully out of sight. It is heavier now than when she came into the apartment.

Mulder is standing while he talks to Scully who is sitting down and looking tired and cranky. Samantha's mother used to get the same look when her father would talk about one subject and not let it go. Fox is acting like their father. It is almost scary.

"In a moment," Mulder says without turning around. "Scully, I'm going to be over at Quantico tomorrow morning - any chance of you keeping Samantha for a few hours?"

There is hesitation in her voice. Finally, "Yes, that's fine. You're going to Quantico on a Saturday?"

"The truth never takes a weekend, Scully. Thought you knew that by now. Samantha, we're going."

He whirls around and almost bumps into her.

"I'm right here," she tells him.

"Sorry, I thought you were in the other room. Let's go. Goodnight, Scully."

He follows his sister to the door and gives her a nudge.

"Good night," Samantha obeys because it's easier than putting up a fight.

Somewhere in the background, she hears Scully's equally unconvincing 'Good Night'.

When the door closes behind them, Samantha tries to keep it together.

* * *

"Fox, does Agent Scully have to come everywhere with us?"

"That's non-negotiable. She is part of my life as much as you are."

"I don't like her."

"Why not? She's a very kind, good person."

"Then go and marry her. She's practically your girlfriend anyway, the way she is always over here or going out with us."

"Maybe she likes hanging out with us."

"No. Just you. Don't you know any other girls?"

"None that will put up with me the way she does."

"You're weird."

"See? Who else is going to put up with a weirdo like me? Nobody. Scully's a good friend so stop your complaining and give her a chance. You two are very much alike, you know."

"I don't care. She's not like me."

"I only meant that you have some things in common. For one thing, you both know me. What an honour and a - Samantha?"

There is something about the disturbed look on his sister's face that startles Mulder. He pulls the iPod out of her grip. "What's wrong?" The penny drops. "Samantha, _why_ don't you like Scully?"

"I just don't."

"No, this is more than 'I just don't'. I'm not mad at you and there is no rule that says you have to like everyone, even my friends. Tell me and we'll figure out what to do."

Her eight-year-old eyes fill up. Her little fists slowly turn inward and she doesn't even notice. "She was there, Fox," she sputters out at last, the tears following so quickly she can barely talk.

"Scully? Was where?"

"That night," Samantha sobs. "When they took me….. she was _there._ "


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 ****Scully is crouched in front of her vacuum cleaner. She is just about to remove the overfilled bag. This is tricky business because one distraction can lead to one wrong slip and you will have a shower of dust and particles that will never end. It will be like - **  
**

"Scully, you here?"

Mulder's voice startles the life out of her and she knocks the bag loose with her knee. A cloud of dust bursts into the air. She is mid-cough when Mulder walks into the room.

"Sorry to come unannounced, Scully, but I need to talk to -" He stops in his tracks. "New look?"

She tries to brush the dust, dirt and fluff from her hair and face. "What happened to knocking, Mulder! Oh, forget it." She drops the bag and the vacuum and the attachment on the floor and gets to her feet like a good, defeated soldier. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you about something."

"It couldn't wait? Hold on…." She brushes the dust out of her nose. "Damnit, I hate that." She looks around. "Where's Samantha?"

"Change of plan. I left her with the Lone Gunmen. Look, Scully - can we sit down for a second?"

"Yeah - sure," she says, a strange fear overtaking her need to fix her appearance. It is at this moment that a strange dizzy spell whizzes through her head. When it disappears, she gets her bearings and hope Mulder has missed this. He has. He would miss a tornado at this point.

"Come on." She leads him into the living room and points to the couch. "Sit." He sits. She lands across from him. "Is everything okay?"

"I don't know."

"Is this about Samantha?"

"She remembered something," Mulder says. "She remembered _you_."

Scully leans back. "Me?"

"Yes. From the night of her abduction."

"What are you talking about? How is that?"

Carefully, Mulder relates Samantha's memory of Scully at the same place as Samantha after being taken from the house and seeing her brother for the last time.

Scully's face is ash. "But - How could - Mulder, she must have recalled a dream she's had."

Mulder leans closer and hesitates. He knows if he waits even half a second longer, he will lose his nerve. "Scully - I need to find out - where you were that night. November 27, 1973 …."

"1973? I was with my family in Texas, at whatever base we were staying at. Mulder, this is crazy, you know that don't you?"

Mulder isn't even sure he knows what crazy is anymore. Sometimes he looks in the mirror and decides there is too much crazy.

Scully nudges his knee, trying to get his focus back. "Tell me how this came up. Why does she think I was there that night?"

He produces the photo album from behind his back. "This."

"Isn't that -"

"It's yours. Samantha borrowed it to show me why she thought you were there."

He flips through the pages from '1973' as quickly as he can and finds the page Samantha showed him.

"Here," he says, pointing to the empty box under the date, _November 27, 1973._

"That's it? A place where a photograph used to be? Mulder, it's obvious that she saw the date and made a connection with her own history. That doesn't mean there is anything to it."

"What if there is?"

"Mulder, this is crazy to support the theory of a returned eight-year-old and her mysterious disappearance based on …. _this_." She pulls the album from his lap and tosses it onto the floor. "It is dangerous for you to buy into this. We were in _Texas_ that year. We moved bases on New Year's Eve to San Diego. We were nowhere _near_ the Mulder's in Massachusetts."

"I don't know if this is or isn't true but her memory is disturbingly clear about this."

"You don't even know if this is ….." Scully stops dead.

"Finish the sentence, Scully. 'I don't even know if this is…. 'Really my sister. That's what you were going to say."

"I have doubts."

"Then who do you think she is?"

"I don't know, Mulder. I don't have enough evidence to make any kind of confirmation either way. And neither do you. I have seen you fall for this kind of deception before. More than once. You want to believe so badly …. But this little girl could be anybody. _Anything_."

He keeps his temper in check. It isn't an easy job because he knows she could be right. But that is not a thought for now. "Can you check? Just help me rule this out. That's all I ask."

"And how in the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"Your mother - ask your brothers -"

"And tell them what? I'd like to know because my partner thinks I may have been seen at the site of an alien abduction on the night of November 27, 1973?"

He stares at her waiting for her combination of sarcasm and fear to ebb. "I need to confirm this, Scully."

Two minutes ago, her greatest problem was emptying an overflowing vacuum bag into a half full garbage bag. "Fine. I'll talk to my mother. But if the answer is not what you want it to be, I don't want to hear any more about it."

"That's all I ask."

"And I'd like to talk to Samantha by myself - without you present. Maybe we can get to the bottom of this."

"Fine," is all he will say. He knows a little about quitting while he is ahead. "How are you feeling? Any more attacks?"

"No. I told you it was a one-time thing. Anything else?"

He looks around the living room. "It's nice sitting here. Not being watched by Samantha. Not hovering over Samantha. Lying awake all night wondering what I am going to do about ... everything."

"Then you should be taking more time for yourself," she snaps. She doesn't mean to sound pissed; his news has put her on edge and she knows she will be the one being hovered over until Mulder gets his answer.

"I suppose. Samantha likes hanging out with the Lone Gunmen. She says they let her get away with everything I won't."

"Gee, maybe _I'll_ go there for a while."

"Scully, I'm not that much of a pain in the ass." He waits for her denial. "Am I?"

She rolls her eyes and leaves the room.

Mulder follows. "You still don't believe this is really Samantha."

"No. I haven't come to that conclusion. Yet. She is a little girl. That's what I know and can prove for now. And you? What do you _really_ believe?"

"That this is my sister."

* * *

"Your sister is a blast, man, but she wants to go home. Langley tired her out with every G-rated game he can find." Frohicke pauses on the line. He can hear Langley's latest victory cheer from two floors away. "I think we'll all need a good nap after this."

"I'm on my way. Listen, has Samantha ever said anything about Scully? "

"No. Should she have?"

He doubts Samantha would have said anything about her abduction suspicions to Frohicke and Mulder decides not to ask. He takes the easier problem. "She isn't exactly a big fan of Scully's."

Frohicke is unusually defensive on this subject. "And why the hell not?"

"The kid thinks I spend too much time with her."

"Well, we all think _that_. About time you shared the wealth, buddy."

"In your dreams."

"You know, Samantha is almost as smart as you. Picks up on everything."

"She's my sister, of course she is brilliant. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

* * *

Mulder closes the passenger door and slips into the driver's seat quickly.

"Have fun?" he asks, grabbing his seatbelt and waiting for his sister to do the same.

"Yeah. Those guys are funny. You sure never had friends like those at home."

No, Mulder thinks sadly, he didn't. "So which one makes you laugh the most?

"Uncle Ringo. But Uncle Melvin is also pretty funny. And Mister Byers is the nicest."

"You call him _Mister_ Byers?"

"It was Melvin's idea. Said it gave him a bit of class. Mister Byers doesn't mind. He thinks it's funny too."

"You know what they used to call me at the FBI?"

Her head turns before the question is finished. "What?"

"Spooky Mulder."

She giggles. "I'm going to call you that from now on. Uncle Spooky."

"Please don't-"

"Uncle Spooky, Uncle Spooky, Uncle Spooky."

He won't try and put an end to this. Eventually Samantha will get bored and move on to something of equal entertainment.

"Did you ask her?" she suddenly asks.

"Yes."

"Did she say she was there?"

"She and her family were living in Texas at a naval base. There is no way you could have seen her in Massachusetts, Samantha."

"You believe her and not me."

 _Oh, shit. We're down to this_.

"I believe _both_ of you. I know you remember seeing her. And I also know Scully knows she was with her family. I've asked her to double check her family's whereabouts just to be certain."

"Maybe she's lying."

"Nobody's lying about anything, Samantha, especially Scully. I told you I believe you and I do."

"I saw her."

"I know you did." _I know you think you did._

"You can't believe both of us."

"Actually, I can. And I do."

His cell phone rings. He reaches into his pocket and hands the phone to Samantha. "Here, you answer like I showed you. Press the talk button."

She looks at him as if he is crazy but does as she is told. "Mulder." Samantha listens for a second and shoves the phone back at her brother.

"Hey Scully. I'm teaching Samantha how to be a G-Child."

Samantha rolls her eyes.

"Sure, we can come over. Your mother won't mind? Oh, Mom's out of town and little Dana's throwing a shindig? Sure, we'll be there in ten."

"Now where are we going?" Samantha wants to know when he finally ends the call.

"The Mothership."

* * *

The coffee table in Mrs. Scully's living room is covered in photo albums, boxes of photos and other family histories that she has held onto for years. She is the family archivist.

"Sit down," Scully says to her two visitors as she points to the couch. Scully drops between them and turns her attention to the neediest.

"I've looked through everything, Samantha," she says, almost apologizing. "There's nothing in here and my mother always kept meticulous records."

A strange look comes over Samantha's face. It takes Scully a moment to realize that no eight-year-old child knows what the hell _meticulous_ means.

"What I'm saying is that even though your memories are so strong, there is nothing in here to corroborate…." She pauses again to come up with another word. "Nothing my mother kept shows anything different than what I remember. We _were_ in Texas. There is even a photo of me and my brother Charlie at a birthday party on November 27. I don't know what else I can do to convince you otherwise."

There is a strange, traitorous silence hovering around the room. Samantha is idly picking at the corner of a scrapbook that is obviously older than she is. Mulder leans forward, ready to move the book as soon as Samantha's busy fingers get close to damaging it. "Thanks for doing that, Scully. I know it was a tall order."

"I want this cleared up as much as you both do."

"I know what I saw," Samantha mumbles to the table top.

"I know that. Neither of us think you are making this up. And I'm sorry this upset you so much."

Mulder and Scully exchange _What Can You Do_ glances and watch as Samantha wordlessly stands up and makes her way across the room to a table covered with photographs. The history of the Scully family is in full view.

"Did you live here too?" Samantha asks picking up one frame after the other.

"No, this is my mother's house. She's lived here for about ten years."

"Where's your dad?"

Mulder jumps in quickly. "Samantha, what did I tell you about asking too many questions."

"Its fine, Mulder," Scully assures him. "He died a few years ago of a heart attack."

"Oh," she says quietly. "Mine too."

Scully mouths, ' _What_?' to Mulder, who shrugs with an implied, _'What Was I Supposed to Tell Her_?' gesture.

Samantha's eyes scan every face in every photograph on this table. "Who is the other girl in these pictures. Is she your sister?"

There is silence from across the room. Then, with forced cheeriness, "Yes, that's my older sister Melissa."

"Oh." Samantha reaches over and picks up the frame. Two small girls are sitting on a pony. It looks as though they are on a farm. The arm of an adult is holding the reins carefully away from the smaller girl's reach.

"She died, didn't she."

"Yes."

"And didn't come back like I did."

A pause."No."

"I'm sorry."

"Samantha, it's time to go home," Mulder starts to say. He doesn't get a chance to stand up because the next words out of her mouth take his legs out.

"But it's not your fault."

This time, neither adult in the other room can look at the other because each thinks Samantha is talking to them.

Samantha puts the frame back. She doesn't notice the gutted faces of the two adults, especially when she asks curiously, "Did someone kill her?"

"Oh, Jesus," Mulder breathes tightly and drops his head into his hands. "Talk about something else, please."

The Perfect Storm of questions. Two lost sisters. Three sets of guilt. No exit.

"Its fine, Mulder," he hears Scully whisper next to him.

Samantha sits down across from Scully."Are your brothers older or younger?"

"One is older, one is younger."

"Oh."

Mulder is still three seconds behind the conversation. He will do anything to absolve himself and Scully of the terrible, guilt ridden silence from a few questions ago.

"Do they have kids?"

Scully nods. "Yes, my older brother Bill - who is very fond of your brother - has one boy named Matthew. My younger brother Charles has two girls and a boy."

Samantha takes this in until a more obvious question comes to mind. She turns to her brother. "Why don't _you_ have any kids."

"Me?"

"Or _you_." She turns to Scully. "Why don't you have any kids?"

Mulder sighs tensely. "Not every adult has to have children, you know."

"Really?"

"Really. Come on, we need to get going."

But Samantha isn't even close to being ready to leave. She has her finger on a photograph of Scully, her sister and her brothers. "Which older brother teased more, yours or mine?"

Finally, a question she doesn't have to wince at. "Well, I would say it's about even. They both tease a lot because they think they are very funny. Your brother has the advantage of never outgrowing his childhood at times."

"I resemble that remark," he protests.

"But both brothers are very kind, smart…."

"And we both love our little sisters very much," Mulder adds with an unexpected touch of sentimentality. "Come on, we need to get going."

He is practically shoving her towards the door. He needs to get out of here. They can't have any situations that put Scully in emotional harm with simple questions from a child.

Scully walks them to the door.

"You staying for long?" Mulder asks.

"Probably not. I want to tidy up so my mother doesn't know I had friends over to the house when I'm supposed to be studying."

Samantha misses the joke but there is something about the way Scully said this that makes her smile. She is funny. This woman can be funny.

"See you," Samantha says with a slight wave and heads down the walkway.

Mulder leans in and quietly asks if Scully is okay.

"I could ask you the same thing, Mulder."

So she noticed. "I'm so sorry about all of those questions, Scully."

"I can handle this. I've answered questions about Melissa for years. Samantha was curious, She is like you. And that's a compliment in case you're wondering."

She is being kind, he knows this without even having to try. Samantha hits every wrong button she can and Scully is the one trying to make _him_ feel better.

"Go home, Mulder."

Scully watches them leave. Samantha's hands are waving in the air and Scully can hear her complain, "But I was just asking, I didn't mean anything…."

Mulder's guiding her towards his car, saying something about being too nosey.

Scully closes the door.

Her hands are shaking.

* * *

"Are you mad at me?"

Samantha has managed fifteen minutes of silence on the drive home. She has to repeat her question before she has her brother's attention.

He slows down at an orange light and looks over. "What?"

"Are you mad at me? For asking all those questions."

He doesn't answer right away. He can't get past the look on Scully's face when they left. Destroyed seems too weak a word. "No. Not at you."

"At Dana?"

This is the first time she has called Scully by any name other than, ' _Her'_.

"No. Not at - not at either of you. The questions you asked….. they were reasonable questions but its …. Scully's had a rough go of it as far as family is concerned. I get protective of her privacy."

"Oh. Okay." Samantha looks out the window. "Did you know her sister?"

He thinks his chest is going to cave in. "God, Samantha, not now."

"I just want to know what she was like."

"Why? What is it about Scully's life that suddenly has you so curious?"

He expects far more curiosity about her own family. She hasn't even tipped the scales when it comes to digging into the vault of Mulder Memories.

"Nothing. I just want to know."

"Why did you say that - about Scully's sister - You said, 'it's not your fault.'"

"Well, it isn't, is it?"

"Who were you talking to?"

She looks at him. "You ask weird questions."

 _Who were you talking to_? He wants to scream. _Whose fault isn't it_?

"So did you know her?" Samantha repeats.

"Yes. I met her a few times."

"What was she like?"

"Yes. She was .. very straight forward. A lot like Scully in many ways. And just as different." And she gave him the best advice he ever followed.

"Why doesn't her brother like you?"

"Damnit it, Sam -

"Did you do something to him?"

Mulder peers at this eight-year-old question mark who sounds like the adult she should have grown up to be.

"Yes. I live in the same universe as his sister."

"Oh."

"That just about sums it up"

"If I had a boyfriend, would you hate him?"

"Yes."

This seems to satisfy her curiosity and there is a comfortable silence.

"That's it?" Mulder asks.

She shrugs. "For now."


	6. Chapter 6

_I didn't tell Fox or Dana but a man tried to talk to me that first morning when I left the apartment. The man looked sort of like Dad, but not really dad, like an uncle or something. Fox was so mad. Dad looked like that once when I got home late from Marcie's house._

Mulder picks up the phone five times and puts it down five times.

Samantha is asleep in his room and he is sitting on the couch in darkness. The power has gone off and he can't help thinking that this must be a sign. He doesn't know from whom or from where or about what, but there is something symbolic about being shut off from the rest of the world. He has checked five times to make sure that Samantha is still safe in bed. The Mulder family has a ridiculously bad track record when it comes to blackouts and losing children.

Every time he closes the door and creeps back to the couch, he promises himself that this will be the last check for at least a half hour because this many times in one hour is not going to do his nerves any good.

So when the phone rings, it scares the crap out of him and he tosses the phone into the air.

He can hear a pause and then Scully's voice asking if he is there. He really isn't sure at this moment.

Finally, it the phone is secure in his hand and he leans back. "Yeah. Sorry. I'm here."

"Is this a bad time?"

"No. Yes. Its fine."

"Is everything okay?"

"No. I don't know what I'm doing, Scully. I don't know who this girl is or who I am or why she is here asking me questions that I don't want to answer or think I can answer."

Silence on the other end of the line. Then, "It's a lot to take in."

Mulder nods in agreement. It doesn't occur to him that a nod over during a phone call really doesn't get the message through. "Are you okay - from this afternoon at your mother's."

"That's why I'm calling. You looked terrible, Mulder. Her questions shouldn't have bothered you so much. She is just curious about another person's family, who they are, how they compare to her own family."

"You make it sound so simple. It isn't, though."

"No, but what is? I want to take Samantha tomorrow."

"No. Thanks anyway. Maybe we can all do something. Go to a movie or…"

"No. Just Samantha and me. You need some time to yourself. She and I need some time away from you. We need to do a little bonding if we are going to learn to co-exist."

His heart lifts. Scully is looking into a future that includes Samantha Mulder. Why not, he then thinks, her whole life with him has revolved around Samantha Mulder.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. And you have to stay away, understand? This has got to be no-brother-Mulder time."

There is a pause. He is weighing the wise and the wrong of this proposal in his mind. "What if we…."

She cuts him off. "No. Bring her by around eleven. Goodnight, Mulder."

She hangs up before he can make jump in with another interruption.

* * *

When Mulder brings Samantha to Scully's apartment, she drags her feet through that doorway as if she is heading for the death penalty. She doesn't want to be here, that much is clear by the way she sits on the couch clutching her book bag and looking back and forth between the two adults as they - openly, this time - discuss pick up times, agendas and where Mulder will be if any problems pop up.

There won't be, Scully assures him. Samantha could swear Dana smiles with a little too much confidence against the chances of _any problems popping up_.

Her brother tells her to be good just before he leaves.

"I will," Samantha grumbles, slightly bothered by the suggestion that she could behave any other way.

Mulder mumbles something to Scully about divorced parents on visiting day and then he is gone.

And they are alone.

Oh, shit, Scully thinks as she stands behind the couch. They are alone.

* * *

By noon, she and Samantha have talked about nothing, the weather, and a little more about nothing.

Lunch saves them both. Scully brings the plate of tomato sandwiches (Mulder had promised this used to be his sister's favourite) and ripple potato chips and a glass of tomato juice (Mulder wasn't as certain about this - either tomato or apple was his sister's favourite) to the table. Scully was at the grocery store early that morning making sure she had every bit of food and drink that she might need.

"What's it like for you to suddenly see your brother as a grown up?"

It's a predictable, easy question that pops into her head and out of her mouth. A panic question, she will realize later.

Samantha reaches for a sandwich and shrugs. "Weird. Does this have salt on it?"

"A little."

"Oh."

And the uncomfortable silence returns. Scully thinks they are in for a long afternoon when she hears Samantha say thoughtfully, "He's different, that's for sure. He's not like my dad but he sort of is like my dad was. Maybe a little nicer the way doesn't get mad at everything. And he's sort of like a kid too. Kind of like …." She drifts away, trying to think of the right word.

"Man-child?" Scully pipes up.

Samantha's head snaps in her direction. For a moment, Scully thinks the eight year old is going to ask her to explain. Instead, a smile flashes. "Man-child," she giggles. "That's funny."

"Fox has a certain degree of playfulness close to the surface. I don't think he can help himself."

"He teases you too?"

"Oh yes. He picks those moments carefully though."

Samantha mulls this over as she takes a few more bites out of her sandwich. "I think I know him more than you do. I knew Fox as a boy, and now I know the grown-up Fox. You only know the grown up one."

It's not a criticism. It's damn brilliant, Scully thinks. "You're right. You do know them both. You have the best of both worlds. So, tell me, what was he like then? Was he good in school?"

Samantha shakes her head. "No. He was always coming home with bad tests and report cards."

" _Your brother?_ "

"Oh sure. Once my dad almost hit him because he was so mad that Fox kept getting bad grades. They were yelling so loud. I think they thought he wasn't trying hard at school. He just wanted to play dumb baseball."

Scully tries to get this image straight in her mind. Mulder obsessed with baseball - yes. Mulder being a crappy student - no.

"When he had to get glasses, he wanted to run away. Well, that's what he told me he was going to do but he never did."

" _Glasses_?"

"Yeah. They were so funny looking. He looked like one of those goofy guys in the comics."

 _Mulder wore funny looking glasses as a kid_? He told Scully he only started using reading glasses in his early FBI days. She wonders how many other unimportant bits of trivia he has tossed her way that weren't exactly accurate.

"Some of the kids called him Poindexter. He got into a fight with one of them and broke his glasses. When my mom asked how his glasses broke and why he had dirt all over him, he said he fell off his bike."

"Poor kid."

"Guess so. He spent the rest of the night in the garage. Dad finally made him come in and do his homework."

"Was your dad mad about the glasses?"

"Sure," Samantha says. "He was always mad about something."

And the wall between them had silently cracked. Samantha devours her soup and sandwiches in silence. Then she asks Scully, "If I was normal, I would be your age, wouldn't I?"

The word _normal_ hovers in the air like a water bomb, ready to go splat on both of their heads.

"You mean if you hadn't disappeared that night? Yes, I guess we would be about the same age."

"Do you think I would have a job? Or be married? Or have kids?"

"You might. I find speculation on 'What If' difficult at the best of time. What do you think you would have done or been?"

"I donno. I always wanted to be a stewardess. Fox said I was too little and that all the stewardesses were tall and leggy and chased the pilots and I wasn't supposed to do that."

"My brother once told me I couldn't like Davy Jones because he chased all the girls." Suddenly, this inane comment of Bills, thirty years after the fact, suddenly makes sense."

"He was looking out for you," Samantha says with the unnerving clarity of a twenty-year old.

"Yes. I suppose he was."

"Why does he hate Fox so much?"

"He mistakenly thinks Fox was responsible for some things that happened. Fox wasn't responsible. Bill - needed someone to blame."

"Was it about your sister? The stuff that happened?"

Scully tries not to mangle the next few sentences that come out of her mouth. "I know you have a lot of questions. And I'm glad you do. But some of them… I'd like to give you proper answers but … they aren't easy answers. For anybody."

Samantha realizes what it is about this woman she is beginning to warm to. Scully treats her like an equal, like an adult. Like Fox.

"Sorry I wasn't nice to you before," comes out of the blue.

Scully waits this out. "I wasn't sure if you liked me or not."

"I did. Kind of. Maybe I thought Fox liked you more than me." A lie. A bold faced lie. She never doubted her brother's affection; Samantha just wanted The Interloper to _am-scray_ which The Interloper never did. Turns out that might have been a good thing.

"Do you know that since you disappeared that your brother has never stopped looking for you."

"Really?"

"He wanted to find you more than anything. And bring you home to your parents."

"Before they were dead," she corrects. "Did you know them?"

"I met your mother a few times."

"My dad?"

"No, I'm afraid not. I spoke to him on the phone once when he called looking for your brother."

Scully never met Mr. Mulder and Mulder never met Mr. Scully.

It all evened out in the end.

* * *

Mulder has spent the afternoon in his nest - the bed he hasn't slept in since Samantha came back - and he sleeps and sleeps and sleeps.

It is almost six o'clock at night when he considers getting up and making breakfast or dinner or some other useful meal. Perhaps he will start with coffee.

He untangles the sheets and sits up. It is already dark outside.

He wonders how they are getting along. _The girls_ , he wants to say aloud, but that is too familiar, too dangerous to toss around in case it breaks

Right now he is hungry and missing his sister and dying to call Scully to hear how things are going. But he won't. Scully doesn't want him barging into her dynamic with Samantha just because Mulder is a little restless.

So when the phone rings a foot away from his head, he grabs it in the same second. He doesn't realize he is holding the phone upside down and that this is why Scully sounds as if she is at the other end of a long tunnel. Finally, he twists the phone in the right direction and says calmly, "Mulder."

He doesn't want her to think he is worried about how the bonding is going.

She is not as calm. "You need to get over here."

"Right _now_?"

"Someone tried to take her."

* * *

end of CH6


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

By the time the car skids to a stop in front of Scully's building, Mulder has aged at least ten years. Wearing the same tee shirt and sweatpants he woke up in, he flies out of his car and up the front steps of the building as though he's about to place second in the hundred-yard dash.

He doesn't bother to knock - he doesn't need to, actually - Scully has the door open for him. She can't look him in the eye as he flies past her into the apartment. "Where is she? What happened?"

Ah, such good questions. The first is so much easier to answer so she tackles it by nodding her head towards the extra bedroom. "Asleep."

Mulder tiptoes towards the door and gently turns the handle. There is a low light on the bedside table. His sister is lying on her side, a blanket all covering her from the top of her head to her feet. She always used to sleep like that even during the grueling hot nights at the cottage; always safe, always hidden.

Mulder creeps closer to the bed and his sister turns. "Fox?

"I'm here." He crawls onto the bed and lies next to her. "Are you okay?"

"Tired. Do we have to go home now?"

"No," he tells her. "We'll stay here for the night. I'll lie with you for a while."

"Okay," she yawns, turns back over and pulls the blanket over her head. Mulder lies next to her for a few more minutes. It doesn't take her long to drift back to sleep.

Mulder watches the form that is his sister. His little sister, whose presence he still can't believe despite the fact that she is right in front of him. He lost her once and he almost lost her again. This wasn't supposed to happen a first time and sure as hell not a second. He waits until she is fast asleep before delicately slipping off the bed.

Mulder delicately closes the door behind him and collapses onto the couch. Scully is in the kitchen, stirring something that may or may not be juice. He could use more than a glass of juice right now. In a moment, when he gets the information of _What The Hell Happened_ and calms down, he will go into the kitchen and get them both a glass of wine. Hell, it will probably turn into a bottle of wine. Each.

"Scully," he calls.

The stirring continues for six more laps. She is buying time. But time runs out and she returns with a glass of juice in her hands. She sits down, trying to cover the fact that she is shivering in a comfortable room-temperature apartment. She can't remember the last time she was so frightened.

"Samantha?" she asks.

"She's okay. Exhausted. I told her we're staying here for the night. If that's okay."

There isn't an immediate reply and he finally takes a closer look at her. She is ashen and her hands are shaking. That is why she is clutching the glass so tightly. "And you?" he asks. "Are you okay?"

"Fine …. "

He pries the glass away and takes her cold hands. They are ice cold. He rubs her hands with his own. "What happened, Scully?"

She manages to coherently - although quietly - get out the story.

They had a quick dinner and were going to a movie theatre for an early show. Scully hadn't let Samantha out of her eyesight as they walked along the crowded sidewalk. Samantha even allowed her hand to fall into Scully's protective grip as they crossed the busy streets _._ A man bumped into them. Scully lost her footing for a moment and she had just enough time to make it to the bench before a strange wave of dizziness took her out first.

She didn't want to frighten Samantha and told her they needed to sit down a second so she could fix her shoe.

And when she could finally look up, Samantha was gone.

She was walking away with no struggle whatsoever with a man Scully didn't think she had seen before. At least, not in person

"I yelled for him to stop, I announced I was a federal agent - he didn't stop, he didn't even turn around or speed up. They turned a corner out of sight and I thought - I thought she was gone. She _was_ gone. Two men were at the other end of the street chased them but by the time I caught up with her, the man was gone and one of the guys was carrying her towards me."

"Oh, shit," he says as he rubs his eyebrow tensely and tries to sort all of this out in his head. "How was she? Was she scared?"

"More in shock than fear. The police came and I told them who I was - I arranged to bring her into the station tomorrow morning - I can't believe I let this happen. I'm so sorry." Her eyes are filling but Scully won't let them take over.

"You didn't do anything wrong. She's a wanderer. She always has been. Scully, stop - look at me for a second."

She can't do it. She pulls her arm away and wishes the rest of her could disappear but Mulder won't let her fade to black, the bastard. He is staring right at her so that she will take in every syllable before she disappears into a well of guilt. "Tonight doesn't change the fact that you are the only person I would trust her with. If anything happened to me, you are still the one I would want to look after her."

There is so much wrong with this statement - its generosity; the fact that nothing had better happen to him; the blind and wrong faith he puts in her; the fact that she doesn't think this little girl will be here for long. All of these things are wrong.

"She is your sister and I couldn't keep her safe. Hell, I couldn't keep my own sister safe."

So here they sit, two adults who couldn't keep the other's sister safe.

Samantha's words the day before suddenly sink in. _It wasn't your fault._ Move on.

He looks like she feels. Tired, hopeless, not sure about the next step. He wonders if one more thing can go wrong.

"There's something else," she says, regaining her composure.

"Oh, shit."

"Samantha got a look at the man. She said - she said it was your father."

"Our father? Our _dead_ father?"

"Don't make light of this Mulder."

"That's the last thing I would - how can she have seen him?"

"She couldn't have. But that's who the man looked like according to Samantha. One of the guys who helped is going give a description to a police artist - maybe we can get something concrete."

He sits back and leans his head back. His arms cover his eyes tightly. Out of what seems like 'the blue' but really isn't, he says, "Why did you felt lightheaded."

And it isn't a question.

"It's not important."

"I disagree. Is this connected to what happened at my place?"

"No, it is not. Don't make that any bigger than it was."

"Does it have anything to do with the week you were off sick?"

"Stop it. Nothing has to do with that. That was a cold. Sore throat. Human things. Remember those?"

He finally leans forward again. She is not telling him everything. "Too many strange things are becoming clustered within each other that can't be mere coincidence. You never get sick except for one terrible time and I can't keep thinking that could happen again."

"Well it's not and if it was, I would tell you in my own time." She stands up and steps away from him. "Mulder, can we can talk about this tomorrow. I'm too tired to think. Do you want to sleep with Samantha or on the couch?"

"Here." He knows that the minute he lies down, his eyes will close and he will drop into the deep sleep he doesn't need. Instead, he will stay awake until he sorts out all of these mysterious variables in his head. Then, he can run them past Scully's blissfully objective self in the morning.

Scully returns in a moment with an arm full of blankets. "This should do. You know where everything is - help yourself to whatever is in the fridge."

He looks up at her with glassy red eyes. She looks even worse. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this Scully. My life, my troubles - my sister. What happened to you tonight. You know I wouldn't wish that on anyone let alone my best…" the next word stumbles out because it is too late to take it back. "friend."

"I know that," she says and lets the F-Word hang in the air.

* * *

end of chapter 7


	8. Chapter 8

_I don't know what's going on or why I'm here or why Fox is so old or where Mom and Dad are. I don't even know where I was except for these dreams that I was in a room with lots of clouds but there weren't any doors. It's been a week since I got here. Nothing has changed. I don't know how long I will be here for. maybe not much longer. I don't know why I think that, I just do._

* * *

Mulder is the first one awake. He has spent most of the night on the couch, thinking through every variable, every scenario he could cobble together.

Scully.

Samantha.

Scully and Samantha.

Scully fits into all of these. Samantha, not so much. So what the hell is he missing.

He manages a few hours of sleep before the sun pouring through the living room windows yanks him awake. It is only nine o'clock and he hasn't figured anything out except for the fact that he hasn't figured anything out.

Scully and Samantha are still asleep. It makes sense, they both had such a stressful evening. They need rest more than he does. Scully especially - what the hell isn't she telling him about her health. This question, as much as the whole subject of Samantha took up most of his waking hours. What isn't she telling him.

He has a cup of coffee in his hand that turns into a half a cup when a knock at the front door scares the shit out of him. At least it is the sink that takes the hit, not himself.

So, after peering through the peep hole and seeing a familiar small person, he opens the door and steps back. Maybe this is the answer to a sleepless night of questions .

"Good morning, Fox," says Maggie Scully, surprised to say the least.

"Morning, Mrs. Scully,"

"I didn't expect to see you here."

That makes two of them. "Samantha and I were here…late. So we stayed over." He wonders if the strange look on her face is because she knows about the terrible evening before. Maybe Scully called her. Maybe she didn't.

He finally realizes what the strange look on her face is about. "On the _couch_. I stayed on the couch."

She actually looks disappointed. She has hopes of knocking on her daughter's door some morning and having Mulder answer; proof that her daughter has finally settled on the one man she is destined to be with.

Instead Mrs. Scully will have to settle for _'the couch'_. "Oh. Well. It's comfortable," she reasons.

Small talk hovering dangerously, Mulder gathers up the blankets and pillow and tosses them into a corner. "Dana's still sleeping. I could wake her for you. Can I get you some coffee? Tea?"

"No thanks. We're supposed to go shopping." She sits down and points to the other end of the couch. "Sit, Fox. You're making me nervous."

He does as he is told. He shouldn't be this uncomfortable around Scully's mother - normally, he isn't - but today is different. Something is going on with her daughter and she may not even know it yet.

"How is your cousin getting along?"

Cousin. He forgets the official story for a minute. First cousin removed? First niece removed? Who is the hell is Samantha supposed to be. "Fine. She's fine. She and Dana seem to be bonding well."

"You're adapting to Fatherhood - well, Cousinhood - all right?"

"So far so good," he says without hesitation. It's a line from a Steve McQueen movie; a man falls from the roof of a building; every time he passes a floor, people can hear him remark, _So far so good, so far so good._

"It's a big job," she says. She would like to add, _especially for a single parent_. "By the look of you, I'd say maybe you've had a taste,"

"Oh, yes," he says, oddly relieved to have a professional parent to commiserate with."She and Dana seem to be getting on much better."

"I heard there was a bit of tension between them."

"It seems to have ironed itself out. I was worried Samantha might be a drain on Dana since she came back to work. I'm not used to Dana calling in sick."

He waits for Mrs. Scully to mistakenly correct him. She doesn't. So Scully has told her mother that much.

"I doubt she is either."

"Well, she seems to be on the mend."

On the mend. The stupidest thing to come out of his mouth. Broken thing are 'on the mend'. Scully is not broken.

"What was that she had anyway. I was worried Samantha might come down with it."

Bullshit. That thought only occurred to him about ten seconds ago.

"On the other hand, if her doctor gave her the go ahead to return to work, she wouldn't have been contagious. What did her doctor say?"

"Did she even go? I don't think she did."

Mulder laughs quietly. Of course The Doctor did not go and see a doctor. The Doctor _is_ a doctor. Except that she told him she had gone to an appointment. Well, maybe it's her mother who was played by this and not Mulder.

"I've barely seen her at all. No, that's not true. I came home the other night and there she was, sitting in the living room, going through a pile of photo albums."

He should offer up some kind of explanation for this. It's his fault Scully was there, his fault she was dragged back into the past and left there to rot until she was found by a kind and understanding mother.

"Mom?"

Scully is awake and looks as exhausted as she feels. She has emerged straight from bed into the nightmare of her mother and Mulder in the same room. "What are you -oh, damn, I forgot about our -"

"I figured as much," Mrs. Scully says nicely. She isn't pissed. She is more amused by the dynamics happening in front of her.

Mulder hops up and slams his coffee mug into Scully's hand. "I'll put on a fresh pot, "

With eye contact which only they can manage, Mulder silently asks if she is alright. She nods and looks away. That gesture tells him she doesn't want to talk about last night.

"Okay," Scully says to the half-filled cold cup in her hand. She drops down next to her mother. "I'm sorry I forgot, Mom. It's been a hectic couple of days."

"So I've gathered. Quite a surprise seeing Fox here." _'The couch, Dana_?' she is tempted to add. _The couch_?

"He …. It's a long story. Can I get you some breakfast? Tea?"

"No thanks, I ate at home."

They are interrupted by a sleepy and loud yawn a few feet away. Dressed in a pair of sweatpants and sweatshirt of Dana's stands Samantha, still half asleep.

"Samantha," Scully says. "Come and meet my mother."

Slowly, the little girl steps into the room towards the newest Scully who already seems way too familiar. "Hi," she says quietly.

"It's good to meet you at last," Mrs. Scully says.

"I was at your house. It's nice."

Mother and daughter exchange looks. "I was showing Samantha some photographs," explains Scully as dully as she can.

"You have a lot of pictures."

"I was always the photographer of the family. Do you like collecting photographs?"

"No, we never had any. I don't think my dad had a camera. I think my brother had that new kind where the pictures print out right in your hand. I could ask him -"

Mulder almost skids into the room before this sentence is finished. "Samantha, I've got some breakfast for you."

Her serious face looks at him while she decides. "Pancakes?"

"No, not - yes, I can make you some, let's let Dana and her mother talk."

He catches Scully's relieved face as he shoos Samantha into the kitchen.

Mother and Daughter can see them hustle around looking for things. Mulder is giving some orders into Samantha's ear.

"Regular little family you've got, Dana."

 _Oh, you don't know the half of it_ ," Scully is thinking. For a second, she views the scenario through her mother's eyes and for another second, this version of a regular little family doesn't seem as farfetched as it should.

* * *

end of Chapter 8


End file.
